andromeda // matty healy au

It Tastes Like Love But It's Not

I felt my phone buzz and pulled it out of my work apron. A text from Sammy rose to the top of my screen.

Hi Andy, repairing the club might take longer than we thought (might cost more, too)...  We're closed until further notice, and when we open, the old wires in that building might not even support a new disc player. Feeling PO.

I slumped my shoulders and shoved my phone back into my pocket.  Between my lack of a second job and Matty, I felt myself losing my sanity.

"What's wrong, ducky?"  Frances asked as she came to a stop beside me.  She balanced a tray of dirty dishes on her hip and looked expectantly at me.  "You look sad, and normally you perk right up after a cup of coffee."

"It's nothing,"  I lied through my teeth, but I could tell that Frances wasn't buying it.

"Really?"  she prodded.  "This wouldn't have anything to do with the thing you wanted to tell your friend, that you brought up the other day?"

"Oh you're good."  I smiled at her, but it faded when Matty dragged through my mind.  "I waited too long, and he found out my secret by accident.  Now he thinks I'm a big liar and doesn't want anything to do with me.  I feel like a loser."

I placed my elbows onto the counter and gazed out into the nearly empty café.  The early breakfast rush was over, and now we waited for brunch people to trickle in.  I tucked a curl behind my ear and pushed it into my ponytail.

"Honey, he's upset right now, but boys aren't very smart."  She laughed as she took a few steps away.  "I'm not saying he'll forget it, but just give it some time.  Maybe an opportunity will present itself and you'll be able to say you're sorry."

I scoffed when Frances was out of earshot.  How do I say I'm sorry  to something so serious?  I've never been good at apologies - I'm sure I got that from my mother and her inability to admit when things are her fault.  But now that I see that I've done something wrong, and I do feel sorry, I can't do anything more sincere than simply saying "I'm sorry".  It's weak.

I'm weak.

I pressed my fingertips into my temples, desperately poking at my brain to think of an answer to my problem.

I could get my tattoo removed.  That's stupid, Celeste, and you know it.  He's already seen it, and you would be left with a big  scar.

I could write him a song. You're going to give a songwriter a song?  Yeah, sure, that'll work.

I could give him a gift.  Okay, we're getting somewhere... maybe.  What kind of gift?

How about a home cooked meal?  Alright, we're getting further from what we want, here.

Is there anything he needs?  Not really... But maybe we could still try to make his life easier.  How about I do something for the neighbours?  Maybe by helping others, Matty will get some... um, residual help...

Oh boy, are you going to stretch after a reach like that?

Shut up.

I gave up on myself and doubting Andy.

-

After work, instead of going to the top floor, I stopped at the door that always made the most noise.  One floor below me, the Wilsons and their terror twins.  As per usual, there were screams and crashes behind the door.  I bravely put forward a courageous hand and knocked.

For a split second, silence.  It was a shock to me, but then in an instant, the baby babbles started again.  The door swung open to reveal a Mrs.Wilson, tired, covered in mess, and still in her pajamas despite it being the afternoon.

"Hello, Mrs.Wilson,"  I began, "I'm Celeste, I live a floor above you."

"I know,"  she eyed me up and down, "what do you want?"

"I just wanted to let you know that recently, I've had some free time over the weekends, and I would be free to babysit if you and Mr.Wilson ever need a date night."

Her face fell into a look of shock.  She stepped over her door sill and closed the door behind her.

"You've heard my kids, right?  Are you sure you've got the right family?"  She never broke eye contact with me, and I really noticed her discoloured skin and eye bags when she stood so close to me.

"Yes, I'm sure,"  I said confidently, "it just so happened that my weekends opened up for the next little while. Maybe for a few months."

Mrs.Wilson continued to eye me up.  She cocked an eyebrow my way, slipped a hand inside the pocket on her nightgown and pulled out her cell.  Her phone was full of unread emails, texts and missed calls, but she unlocked it without opening them.

"When can I call you?"  she asked, giving me a place to put my contact information.  I couldn't help but beam at her.

"I work Tuesday to Saturday, from 7:30am to 3:30pm, so feel free to call me anytime besides that."  I watched as she took another note of my availability.

"I'll let Mr.Wilson know you came by today... it's Sally, right?"

"Celeste."

"Celeste.  Thank you for letting me know.  Feel free to call me Rhonda."

"No problem, Rhonda."

We both smiled awkwardly and left the conversation at that.  She closed her door and I made my way up the stairs, but not before Mr.Perry came out of his flat.

"My dear, would you please keep it down?  I'm trying to watch my soap and you two chatty Kathys out here are making it quite difficult to hear,"  he said calmly, but I could tell he was about to lose his cool.

"Right, I'm sorry Mr.Perry.  I'm going to have a quiet afternoon tonight."  I said back.

"Good, because nothing irks me more than hearing you shuffling around late in the evening.  I can hear when you leave and when you come in, you know?"  He tugged his cardigan together and looked up at me.  "Why do you leave your apartment for so long in the night?"

"Oh, you know,"  I struggled to come up with some way to cover my tracks.  "Exploring, the 24 hour gym has less creeps, things like that."

Mr.Perry mumbled something, seemingly happy with the answer I provided, and with that, I made it up to the top floor.

I looked towards Matty's door.  I considered knocking.  His gentle guitar plucks could be heard from the hallway, so I knew he was at home.

Instead, I let myself into my flat and collapsed on my couch.